Disobediance
by preposterousnotion
Summary: Because they've never been people to do as they are told.  Quill. 5 parts. M for lemons in part 4.
1. Chapter 1

**Disobediance**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from Glee.**

**AN: Just going through my hard drive and sorting through some of the stuff on there. Thought I'd edit this one, hadn't originally published it because it got a bit long and I have a short attention span for pieces in present tense. So I split it up and changed a few things.**

** I think everything will be explained as we go along. Quill. 5 parts. M for smut in part 3 or 4… I think that's about it.**

**Ruby.**

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><p><span>Part 1<span>

Quinn Fabray was always the golden child, the good one, with wide innocent eyes and an angelic smile as her sister ran wild circles around her.

It had always seemed to her, when she was the tender age of 14, that her parents had all but forced Frannie to marry the first boy she dragged home that was at least Christian, and didn't have more than 4 piercings…

She's still supposed to be the good girl, supposed to pretend that she hasn't sinned, supposed to plaster on that watery angelic smile and waltz through life as though the crowds should part for her.

Even though they don't, instead they stare and whisper, and her hand flies subconsciously to her barely visible baby bump, and she hates herself and everything she has learnt to be, because she was never ready to deal with anything like this.

But maybe that was the point, anyway.

And when her mum catches her in the store buying groceries with Mercedes' mum nearly a month after she was kicked out of her childhood home, she is all sweet syrupy promises and it's all so familiar but alien all at the same time.

Even so, she finds herself floating back home, and talking about plastic problems, and eeking out the gossip that she can overhear from when she is hiding in the bathroom at school.

Her only friends now are the glee club.

Accepting her for not what she has done but who she is, and Puck has no idea how he should act as the father of her child, and Finn seems to think that breaking up with her was only a formality, and still acts like the doting boyfriend.

Neither of them know what she needs, a hand to squeeze, a shoulder to cry on, someone to tell her it's going to be alright.

Instead she flashes them that watery smile and bites her lip and squashes down everything inside her, cursing both her parents for being so good at hiding spontaneous emotion.

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><p>Her dad returns from his business trip, and the bristling anger and the blank, unresponding expression of her mother sends her back to Mercedes, who covers half the bases with a large mug of very milky tea and a rom-com marathon.<p>

She's so bitter, and wishes that could be an excuse for her awful behaviour, smarming around Puck entirely out of spite because of the increasing time he has spent with Rachel Berry.

She feels a surge of what she once thought was power and victory at every wounded expression the small diva passes her, but now it just feels like yet more sugar coated self-hatred, and when Puck texts her to say he'll stop seeing Rachel to be back with her, she's the only one in the Jones' house, and she throws her phone at the wall and runs away until her feet hurt and her head is pounding.

It's raining so hard, she can't tell which are tears or raindrops on her face, and she's only wearing a summer dress, and she's shivering and sobbing so violently it makes her whole body ache.

But maybe that's the emptiness inside her.

His rust bucket of a blue car crawls behind her, then beside her, and he wrenches the handbrake until it's practically vertical and falls out of the car, swearing at the driving weather, and shouting her name to make himself heard above the raindrops.

"Quinn? What are you doing?"

Her head snaps round and he looks so genuinely concerned that more silent tears defiantly appear, and she wonders, for a brief second, if he'd know what to do.

It turns out she didn't really get a choice, as after one look at her visible shaking and blue lips, he's bundling her into his car.

She lets him push a big fluffy towel at her and propel her to the bathroom, and she stands in front of the mirror for a good 20 minutes staring disgustedly at the image she sees there.

Her bump is visible under her sodden clothing, and all of a sudden it seems to represent everything that's wrong in her life, but really she just wants someone to blame that isn't herself for a change.

And then she's screaming because she can't blame a 3 and a half month old foetus for a lifetime's worth of disobedience.

Mr Schuester enters the bathroom without her hearing him, and he knows better than she does what she needs, wrapping a blanket around her and half guiding her, half carrying her to the couch.

His soft calm voice, telling her to let it out, telling her he's there to help her, asking her not to hide.

She lies still on his couch for a couple of hours, and he brings her cookies and strong black coffee, then apologises for both.

She's surprised about the absence of his wife, and he mumbles something about her work, and she lets him talk about his obsession with giraffes and sips gratefully at her hot drink.

The way he squeezes her hand and gazes at her as though she was still beautiful, and tells her how carrying a child is one of the most amazing things humans could achieve, and that she isn't alone, warms her inside.

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><p>Back at Mercedes' house, she's quiet all through dinner, and excuses herself early in the evening to sleep, sleeping the best she has in weeks.<p>

Next time she lets him help her, she's out walking aimlessly again, and feels sick at the sight of him, but needs his kind words.

He chides her for not wearing a jumper, and she's back on his couch but this time he sits beside her, reading parts out from a baby book that he says has taught him everything he knows.

She leans against him, just slightly, and is shocked when his arms loops round her shoulders, but he is a cuddly sort of person, and they're in his home, not at school.

But maybe that makes is worse.

She listens, his voice is mesmerising, but she's also thinking about how his wife is going behind his back and is convinced that Quinn herself is going to agree to 'swapping their babies' once they are born, in some convoluted crime plan that reminds her of The Italian Job.

Quinn's not sure hers will look anything like Mr Schuester, or Terri, come to that, but when she sees Terri with what is evidently the father of her child, she figures that her baby being a different skin-tone will be slightly more noticeable.

She feels horrible and avoids him for the best part of a month.

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><p>One day he turns up to glee with a black eye and a split lip, his face like thunder and excruciating emotional pain.<p>

Nobody says anything at the mark on his finger where his wedding ring should have been, but everybody sings with doubled effort, and Finn tries so hard not to trip over his own feet that he's sweating buckets by the end.

Quinn lingers at the end of rehearsal, wishing she knew what to do, but leaves quickly as Finn and Puck and Rachel return to the choir room for extra practise, not wanting to disrupt the love triangle that is turning all attention of the school away from her.

Much later, after she politely declines the offer to accompany the Jones' to Mercedes' kid cousin's birthday party, she walks the couple of miles to his house, and even though she wears a cardigan, she's still cold by the time she gets there.

She lets herself up, and knocks on his door.

There's no answer, and after a couple of minutes she pushes it open.

He calls from the couch.

"Terri?"

There's something almost hopeful in his voice that breaks her heart.

"Sorry- I'm not Terri". She takes a deep breath and walks right over to him, hand resting on her bump, wishing she could hide, but not able to from him.

He gives a manic sort of lopsided grin.

"Good", he says shortly. "I'm glad you're not Terri".

Then, after a pause, "I thought we talked about wearing jumpers?"

It's light-hearted, and he's going to be alright. They both are.

She shrugs, smiling, and he sighs dramatically, pulling off his huge grey sweatshirt that he has been slobbing in and handing it to her.

"I've only just put it on", he offers, when she hesitates, as though it is too far, when she knows all too well it can never be far enough.

It smells wonderfully like him, and he pulls her sideways into him, for extra warmth, of course.

Before the end of the _Law and Order_ episode, she's told him everything he doesn't know about Terri, and he is the first guy to touch her baby bump, seeking comfort from Quinn's awkward embrace.

He whimpers helplessly as his knuckles brush lightly over the stretched skin beneath his own sweatshirt, and completely breaks against her.

It's horrible to see a grown man cry, and the worst thing is, if Terri had come back to him instead of it being her going over to his apartment that night, Quinn is sure he would have gone on to raise her child and love it as though it was his own.

She decides on adoption and decidedly scorns the sanctity of marriage.

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><p>Please review :)<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Disobediance

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from Glee.**

**AN: Thanks for the positive support for part 1, I hope it continues to be alright! Feedback is very much appreciated :)**

**Ruby.**

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><p><span>Part 2<span>

She gets bigger, she hurts everywhere and nothing helps.

Mercedes is as patient as a saint, and Quinn finally knows what it's like to have a real friend.

Will becomes more and more distant, and their lengthy daily conversations become just a few lines of update.

He looks at her more, though, albeit from a distance, and if it wasn't so much effort to move anywhere, she would surely go round to his apartment, wanting his arms around her, craving his warm hands to clasp hers and somehow soothe her aching joints.

He looks so much younger, when the divorce is finalised, like a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders. She's relieved to find out that it's totally normal to be significantly more… sexually charged… due to the pregnancy hormones.

She tries to imagine that she feels the same way with the other guys in glee club, but it's Will Schuester who is the sole reason her hand slides up the inside of her thigh in the shower. She has a powerful yearning for his fingers to replace hers, wondering if they would be calloused, from playing guitar, and knowing they would be talented, from watching him play the piano.

It does nothing to relieve her frustration during the day, fuelled by the ever darker eyes that flick to her with something that can only be described as longing in their depths.

She's not short of options as to where to go at the end of term, when Mercedes' brother is back from college for the holidays.

Everyone in glee club has offered her a place to stay, but she hangs on, trying not to give a reason why, and instead concentrates on choosing a family for Beth.

Puck names her, she lets him, because he's not going to be the father of her child, and never will be.

Will organises an extra after school practise for everyone to stay and help out, and in the end it's Puck who finds the perfect couple.

She once wanted the big house in the suburbs and the clean, smart husband with the great career.

Now she's not sure what she wants.

But really the problem is she knows exactly what she wants, and she can't have it.

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><p>Regionals.<p>

Everyone is ready, she assures Will constantly (she's not sure when he started being 'Will' to her, but the way she burns for him, she can't call him anything else) that she can still do the dancing, as long as she is at the back and isn't too over-enthusiastic.

It's the longest conversation they've had in ages, and she only realises how close they are standing when he places a gentle hand on her shoulder.

She's been loudly complaining about how she feels like a beached whale, and how regularly she has to pee, for the whole of glee.

He looks her in the eyes.

"You're glowing, Quinn", he tells her softly.

Her smile is genuine, and something more needy than angelic.

"You're amazing, okay? And don't worry about the dress for Regionals. You'll look gorgeous".

He immediately looks like he shouldn't have said it.

"You're going to be there aren't you?" She asks, pointlessly.

"I'm always going to be there", he says seriously, and leaves her wondering just how much he means by that.

He's right though.

He's there, keeping a wobbling Puck upright at the edge of the delivery room, and his smile is so proud as she turns tired and shining eyes to Mr and Mrs Penfield as they cradle and coo over their new baby girl.

When Puck slips out to tell the rest of the glee club, he is there by her side, smoothing damp hair off her face and kissing her sweaty forehead, and maybe they can never have anything, but they can share the moments that spark something like hope in her heart.

Moments that she holds tightly too, knowing almost exactly how his arms feel wrapped around her, feeling his feather light touch in her mind every time she wears the grey sweatshirt he gave her for maternity wear.

It doesn't smell like him any more, but she imagines it does.

Her mum pulls her aside and rambles about her failing marriage and nearly pleads with her to come back home.

Quinn tells her she has plans, and that she'll keep in contact, but isn't ready to completely forgive her.

She's smiling widely again as Rachel and Mercedes manage to get the whole glee club over to Rachel's house for an impromptu 'adoption shower'.

Mercedes whispers "Shall we invite Mr Schue?" in her ear and she nods so fervently that her friend raises an eyebrow at her.

It's soon forgotten after all their silly games and junk food, and everyone trying in vain to beat Will's dancing on the Wii.

She's sore, and exhausted, and falls asleep on the fouton in Rachel's basement, and by the time she wakes up the next afternoon, she's surrounded by small gifts and chocolates and flowers, and there's a pile of her stuff from Mercedes' house in the corner.

The present she opens last isn't labelled, and it's a solid silver heart shaped locket on a silver chain.

It's so perfect it makes her cry.

* * *

><p>Rachel turns out to be a great housemate.<p>

She barely even complains when Quinn insists on having bacon, and in return tries some of the Berrys' infamous tofu pie, and actually quite enjoys it.

She and Rachel become firm friends over the vacation, and she spends most of the summer with her, or when she is with Puck, with Mercedes.

It's dull when Rachel is at some dance and drama camp and Mercedes is staying with her aunt, she has sudden urges to learn to play the guitar.

It's the first time she's seen him all holiday when he answers the door wearing just a towel, his hair wet and bubbles in his ears, his breathing heavy like he's been running.

She can't blame the pregnancy for her dry mouth and throbbing desire right in her core, and she's acutely aware that she isn't exactly the popular head cheerio anymore.

She's curvier, and scarred.

But she smiles more.

His eyes follow the silver chain around her neck, dipping longingly to where the locket hangs.

He stays staring at her for a long while, and finally chokes out "Coffee?"

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><p>She catches him up on everything she's been doing, and even though he's dressed since, she can tell that he seems to have been spending all his time working out.<p>

He eventually admits as much, saying something about "Thought I'd make more of an effort", and she's quiet, wondering for whom, and feeling irrationally jealous.

"You shouldn't need to make an effort for anyone", she says hotly, unthinking, "I've always thought you were attractive".

"Really?"

They are sitting facing each other on the couch, leaning on the opposite arms, toes just touching in the middle.

She ducks behind her coffee mug away from his incredulous expression.

"It should be a crime", she mutters.

He says nothing, but his eyes rove over her body almost hungrily, and the air between them is thick with an unnameable electricity.

Nearly an hour later, they're still chatting aimlessly again, and Will's hanging on her every word like she's the only one who bothers to talk to him so openly, and they've moved into a comforting familiar position, her nestled into his side.

There's not a baby bump in the way anymore, but he holds her as preciously as though there is.

She wonders what he would have been in her life if she had kept her baby.

It's getting late, and his eyes are so wide and hopeful if he asks if she has to be back for dinner, that she sends a text to both Rachel and her dads and tells him she can stay for a bit longer, even though she is missing out on tofu pie.

He orders a pizza, and when he gets up from the couch to answer the door, he leans over and tilts her chin up with his forefinger, his lips swooping down for a chaste peck, as though it is the most natural thing in the world.

When he returns, he looks so guilty, and she's still frozen into the same stance, too terrified to move.

"I'm sorry", he says, desperately. "Oh god, I'm so sorry… I have no idea why I did that…. Oh god, why did I do that..? I wasn't even thinking…"

"Will", she murmurs softly, and it's the first time she's addressed him directly in this way, and his eyes flash with unmistakable lust.

They eat pizza and talk sparingly about the plans for the glee club next term.

The last piece sits cold and forgotten some time later, and it really is late now, but she doesn't want to leave, with the atmosphere still so tense and uneasy.

She regards him thoughtfully, the curve of his jaw, the raw heat of his side pressed against hers.

He really doesn't know how he makes her feel.

"Thanks for the pizza", she says lightly, and, on a whim, darts forward to brush her lips to his cheek, just to the left of his mouth.

His hand flies up and his fingers touch the spot, his eyes full of worry and wonder.

"It's a thank you", she continues, still in the same easy tone, as though her heart isn't hammering painfully in her ribcage.

"A thank you", he echoes, and her whole body tingles at the rough edge to his voice.

Then he frowns.

"Thank you for coming over", he says, leaning right forward and placing a whisper of a kiss on her open mouth.

When he pulls away, her breath follows him in a gasp.

Then she smiles shyly.

"Thank you for being here".

Another kiss, barely lingering longer, still tentative, but wavering from the intensity of need that lies bubbling behind it.

His voice is huskier this time, his body held tense and quivering just inches from hers, now most of his weight is leant on his arm on the back of the couch behind her, in order to lean closer.

"Thank you for being such exquisite company".

In this kiss he pushes forward as she does, lips melting together with the increased pressure.

It's over far too quickly.

It's just a thank you after all.

"Thank you… too…"

She's just staring at his soft lips now, and can feel his eyes scorching hers, and she deliberately slowly runs her tongue along them to taste the faint tomato flavour from his.

He swallows thickly.

"I've got to go", she admits, reluctantly, "I've got to have enough sleep to be able to see Rachel's dads off tomorrow morning… they're going on some business weekend…"

He nods, and she's cold when he slips off the couch until offers her a hand, and heat pulses through her again.

She wants to ravage him, wants to act upon all these dancing feelings.

She squeezes his hand and walks away, and his eyes don't leave her until the door clicks shut.

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><p>Please review :)<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Disobediance

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from Glee.

AN: Thanks to everyone for reading, subscribing and reviewing :D

This part and the next are unevenly split, so this is shorter and the next is quite long. But in terms of plot, that was how it worked out, I hope it works anyway!

Ruby.

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><p><span>Part 3<span>

She's got the Berry residence to herself the next afternoon, as the Berry dads are away on their business trip, and Rachel raced off to Puck's house as soon as the cab pulled away at 7.30am, calling behind her that there was bacon in the fridge and plenty of bread.

Quinn finds it hard to know what to do with herself, when it's just her, even though she's pretty used to it by now, or at least should be.

But when she prods at the stretch marks on her stomach, there's a strange empty aching in the crook of her arms.

She now knows that one day she'll want everything she thinks she never deserves, and she already wants someone to want those things as much as she does.

The space inside her that fills this description has a very particular shape.

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><p>He's there at about 6pm, looking like he's showered and styled his hair specially.<p>

She has to check herself, before she answers the door, because she's ready to run into his arms and let him take her to places where real life doesn't exist.

She checks herself because real life does exist, and he's coming over to tell her that before it's too late for either of them.

But it's already too late for her.

"I didn't thank you for thanking me", he says, all in a rush, his words jumbled together in his haste to say them.

She blinks at him, and his sticky gaze flicking between her eyes and her lips is wholly inappropriate, but _so_ so good.

"What?"

"I didn't thank you for thanking me", he repeats, slowly, and she wonders just how long he has been thinking about saying this.

She makes some non-committal noise, and blinks rapidly, as though she wants to check that he is real and this isn't just all in her head.

He's still there, smart and sweating, and she realises he is really nervous.

She takes a deep inhale to steady her erratic breathing, attempting a coy look up down at him from the top step of the porch.

She's supposed to be so good at this.

But she's really not, because _this _sort of 'this' is so very different.

"And how would you like to thank me for thanking you?" she asks, and it's more high pitched and wavering than she had hoped.

"Oh I have a few ideas", he stutters back, and his accompanying grin is positively devilish.

"You think about me? You think about…. Thanking me?"

He winces slightly, pulling nervously at the bottom of his shirt.

"Yeah… I'm sorry… I'm really not good enough… I can't do this… I…"

She stumbles ungracefully down the steps and he catches her without thinking, relaxing the instant his hand grips her arm.

"I think about you too", she admits quietly, and it's crazy how potent the rush is at this admission.

"Oh", it's quiet and humble.

She's emboldened by the feeling of his hot breath on her neck, he's crept closer than he dares.

As close as she dares to imagine he wants her to be.

"Yuh… I think about… I think about more than just thanking you".

He's almost on top of her, has her backed right up against one of the wooden pillars that holds the porch roof up, and yet somehow they aren't touching, the electricity jumping across the few centimetres carefully separating the line of his body from hers.

"You do?"

His question his barely audible, and their mingled breathing is louder.

"Is that okay?"

He hesitates, and she amends her question to one that actually matters.

"Is that okay _with you_?"

Instead of answering, or rather, in lieu of an answer, he finally allows himself to settle his humming body against her, and he's so incredibly warm, and her eyelids flutter at feeling his upper chest and legs press against her own.

She's opening her mouth to say something again, something that's hopefully more understandable than the swirling nonsense that her thoughts have become.

But he cuts her off, a sudden fierceness and a crash of lips, and at first he's all teeth and tongue, before she slips a wandering hand around his neck, her fingers curling in the soft hair at the back, and with a sigh, they are in perfect synchronisation.

His lips are gentle and caressing, and it's incredibly refreshing to be kissed without feeling that there is a hidden agenda, without knowing it is probably just for show.

He just wants to honestly show her how he feels, where no words are enough.

He feels perfect, and she clings closer to him, stinging in her eyes, and willing him to deepen the kiss, so tentatively opening her mouth to his undemanding languid kisses.

With a barely disguised moan, his mouth slants over hers, a decedent stroke of his tongue beneath her top lip, before finding hers, and touching it gently, forced to pull away as he suddenly feels very light headed.

"Will", she says, almost pleadingly, and tugs his lips to hers again.

She's the messy one this time, and their slow sensual first kisses quickly develop into something wholly more passionate, openly wanton.

She buries both hands into his hair, and his fingers grip tighter at her waist, and it's so much more but never enough.

But this kind of kissing can't be labelled by something it's not.

They're snogging on the Berry's front porch, seeking an intimacy that is so far out of reach for both of them.

It can't go anywhere, they are both so aware of that, and painfully aware that it shouldn't have even started in the first place.

But he's still kissing and kissing her, tongues dancing and lips caressing with a reverence he can't define.

He leaves her panting and aroused, wobbly legs against the porch support, walking slightly uncomfortably back to his car and touching the throbbing mark on his neck with incredulous fingers.

It's an unbelievable thrill to have claimed something she can't have.

It's an overwhelming terror that she still might never have it.

* * *

><p>A few days later Will's cell-phone rings when he's in the middle of an impossibly intricate plan of action.<p>

It's Rachel, and he checks his watch before asking, "Rachel? Are you drunk?"

"It's 11am", she informs him sharply.

"Yeah… well, that's what my cell phone number should be used for", he mutters.

That and describing the stars he can see above the light pollution out of his window to Quinn, until her breathing slows and shallows and he knows she's asleep.

Three days and the bruise on his neck has faded, and he misses her much more than is healthy.

"I know… but this is important. And, first of all, you're welcome".

He's confused by this, and it doesn't help that his brain is still tired, since he only put down the phone about 6 hours ago, and didn't sleep much since.

The Berry dads are convinced that someone will come along and steal their very expensive paving on the front path.

Rachel hadn't deemed it necessary to mention to Quinn that they had cameras trained on the front porch and beyond.

He loses the thread of what she's saying as his brain begins to shut down in panic.

He's in fight or flight mode, but this does nothing to help, since he will only fight to keep something he hasn't got, and he will only keep running back to her.

"I'm just warning you", she says, not unkindly. "Be careful, and don't fall in love with her".

He doesn't do as he's told.

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><p>Please review :)<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

Disobediance

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from Glee.**

**AN: So this is the part I have been most nervous about posting :S Most definitely M rated...erm, yeah. I just hope it's okay :)**

**Ruby.**

* * *

><p><span>Part 4<span>

They steal seconds alone, of hurried needy kisses, by meeting up in the furthest corners of the park in the fast fading light, far away from any cameras.

And even though the Berry dads are away a lot and Rachel is supposed to have a different dance class every night, it's almost harder to get away from the house than it would be if it was her own parents.

Quinn is unaware of Rachel's watchful gaze.

Rachel corners her one sunny afternoon, as she's sitting cross legged staring out the window at absolutely nothing.

They go back to school in less than a week.

"Are you alright Quinn?"

Quinn says nothing, and Rachel, determined as ever, tries again.

"What's wrong?"

"A year is a really, really long time", Quinn replies, indirectly.

Rachel takes a stab in the dark.

"Until you graduate?"

Still silence.

Rachel stares at the tumult in her friend's eyes for a very long time.

"Glee doesn't count as a lesson", she says, carefully, then, after another long pause, "Drop Spanish".

* * *

><p>This is still in her head when she invites Will over the second Rachel is out of the house with her pink night bag and strict instructions to watch a list of her favourite musicals.<p>

She says it in a way that makes Quinn seriously wonder whether she will be tested on her return.

Will barely looks at her until they are in the safety of the guest room, but when he does his expression is tinged with so much adoration she forgets that this is weird.

"School on Monday", she comments, attempting a breeziness that she doesn't feel.

He shuffles closer to her, sitting on the edge of her bed, staring down at his feet like she is at hers, and purposefully walks his toes over the carpet to wind his hairy leg between her two pale smooth ones.

"Will you be there?"

But wasn't the problem that they would both be?

She nods so very briefly his hazel eyes fill with concern.

But she doesn't elaborate, instead changing the subject. "My mum is still waiting for my forgiveness".

From her tone, he knows she's not going to give it, may never give it.

May only have civil conversation and compulsory family occasion type meetings with her parents ever again.

It's not her home there.

Home is where the heart is.

"What are we doing?"

He doesn't look at her.

"We're sitting on the bed, Quinn", he says, his tone short. "We're sitting on the bed and holding hands".

She hasn't even realised that their fingers were entwined.

She tells herself it has to end, so she makes a rash decision that probably isn't really the best idea she's ever had.

She murmurs his name in the way that never fails to make flames dance in his eyes.

She kisses him gently, tenderly, exploring hands massaging as they go, pushing the worry from his muscles.

He pulls away.

"Quinn, Quinn we don't have to do anything if you don't want to… I came over to see you, not anything else… I miss you…"

He can read her like a book.

It probably should scare her, as should everything else. But it only adds to her enthralled awe for the irresistible hold he has on her.

"I want you Will", she whispers heatedly.

"I want you", he returns almost fiercely, "And not just because I shouldn't".

"I know", she whispers.

She takes it for granted just how easily they mesh together, not just physically, but how they just fit into each other's lives and hearts as though they had always meant to be there.

There's a gravity of understanding in his firm and lavish kiss he gives her, moving to suckle on her neck and finding a spot that has quickly become his favourite.

She squirms, as he knew she would, but she's more nervous than she had thought.

"Hey", he says gruffly, his breathing heavy as he pulls them both to lie on the bed. "Relax, Quinn… honey- it's just me".

But they've only ever kissed before, and she's only ever been further once before, and he's never _just him_ to her.

He's everything.

"Just… just be gentle", she urges.

He quirks an eyebrow, and she will never trust anyone like she trusts him.

"I will worship you Quinn", he promises, deeply, "and only ever as far as you want to".

She realises he's already considered waiting a year for her, and she feels she's not worth the wait.

Every cell in her body wants her to be.

"But…"

He kisses her quickly, chastely.

"Do you trust me?" He asks.

She returns his gaze steadily. "Indefinitely".

"_Quinn_…"

She smiles and he tangles their legs together, still stroking her hair.

He's not all that confident either, not like Puck was, all bold moves before thought.

Will offers her questioning slow caresses, his hands just lazily rubbing her sides and squeezing her hips as his mouth devours hers.

She returns his kiss with unabated hunger. She's starving for him.

"Remember you just have to tell me not to", he prompts.

It's a last stab at maintaining some sort of law that they continue to disregard.

She ignores him, instead pulling at his t shirt, an overwhelming sense of time running out niggling at the back of her mind.

"Hey", he says, again, catching her hands in his and running his thumb over her knuckles. "Slow down".

He swallows, moistening his lips. "I want to make you feel… I want to make you _feel…_"

She's embarrassed by the whimper that escapes her lips, but when he catches his breath and crawls over her, claiming her lips with unbridled desire, embarrassment is replaced by lust.

The lust is always there, or at least, it begins with the same letter.

It alights now, ripping through her with a frenzied flame southwards, and she gasps as his hands venture beneath her tank top, and it's summer and hot but the contact's incredibly hotter.

His fingertips caress silky skin, marvelling in the instant reaction her body has to just his simple touch.

Maybe he was doing something wrong before, he thinks.

But then timid fingers begin beautiful patterns from just above his hip bones, and it's an incredible feeling, and maybe it was just wrong before.

He nuzzles deeper into her neck, feeding off her quiet noises of approval as he slowly reaches round to unclip her bra.

It's strapless, due to the thinness of her tank top straps, and it allows him to merely push it down slightly, without removing her top.

His mouth closes over each nipple in turn, his hands coming up to cup her breasts as he sucks through the material.

She arches against him elegantly, and he can't withhold a rather loud moan, because she may not be a cheerio any more but she's still incredibly flexible, and the way she pushes against him… she fits there just right.

He returns his attention to kissing her thoroughly, peeling up the tank top an inch at a time, switching between wet kisses to her open mouth and the sliver of skin he is revealing.

Before he pulls it entirely off over her head, she pulls his head down to hers, indulging him with a mind melting attack of lips and tongue.

He's barely even started and she's already more turned on than ever.

He's struggling to meet his own instruction to slow down, and mumbles something along those lines into her ear.

She's beyond understanding, but in a way answers him anyway in her desperation for skin on skin contact, tugging again at the hem of his t shirt.

This time, after ridding her of her own top, and vowing to make the time to kiss every inch of her bare body, he lets her help him remove his own top, kneeling up to throw it onto the floor, then pouring his lithe form back over hers.

She stills him with a hand on his chest, and her eyes are wide and unworthy.

He doesn't know that he'd still be the only one she looks at like she does, even if he doesn't try so hard.

He doesn't know how to not try so hard in a relationship.

He doesn't know that whatever he and Quinn have- it's not a relationship.

She gulps and manages to roll them over bending over him like a predator at her prey, glancing darkly up at him before pressing a lingering open-mouthed kiss to the centre of his chest.

Actions speak louder than words.

He closed his eyes and succumbed to pure sensation, each trace of her scorching tongue gathering tendrils of fierce heat in his lower abdomen, and pulses of pleasure sent spontaneously from this writhing pool straight to his groin.

Her fingertips explore even further, tracing every dip and curve of muscle like a sweet summer breeze in a heatwave.

He groans, a long drawn out sound that is completely alien to him, and Quinn doesn't know she will be the only one to make him feel quite like _this_.

With shaking hands groping blindly for some grip on her, he struggles to bring her back flush with him, tasting her mouth gluttonously, and thrusting a shallow thrust up from the bed against her.

They kiss like this for several long minutes, when it could have really been hours, acutely sensitive to every single square millimetre of bare skin that is touching.

Will moves delicate nibbles across to her ear, pushing her earring aside with his tongue to tug at her earlobe.

His right hand has strayed to the turned up bottom of her very short denim shorts, and now he presses a strong thumb to the seam between her legs, rubbing there several times, her faint noises making his chino shorts feel tighter than ever.

He bites his lip, he could so easily lose control, the animal inside him screaming lust filled thoughts to his willing body.

But she's so fragile, so delectably at his mercy, that he knows he's going to be the one to show her pure adulation.

Quinn finds herself on her back again, and the single bed really isn't big enough or strong enough for the building anticipation.

Every kiss and touch has her so tightly wound up that she can only dig her fingernails into his shoulders and try to meet his hips as they gently roll against her.

"Quinn?"

He's hovering over her, eyes dark and lips swollen.

"I want to touch you", he tells her, voice deep and scratchy with desire. "Is that okay?"

She fights to keep her eyes open, desperately remembering every tensed sculpted line, every shadow of craving colouring his expression.

She pulls roughly at the hand now just waiting at the waistband of her shorts and leaves it pushing at the button and zipper, hoping he can understand her and not able to form a sentence.

"Please", she whimpers, helplessly.

She barely registers the process of removing the offending clothing, just the skirting of his long fingers down her smooth legs and his barely concealed grunt before the heel of his hand is pressed to the apex of her thighs.

He head falls to his shoulder as all at once he is slipping his middle finger inside her, his tongue drawing the valley of her breasts.

His intoxicating scent calms her, and her fingers dance up and down his spine as his finger twists and plunges deeper inside her.

He adds another, and kisses her hotly, his thighs clasping around her left leg in a desperate attempt to find friction as she arches and writhes beneath him, naked and surrendering.

He pumps his fingers, learning her body from her every gasp of his name, her fingernails marking his hard muscle in wanting him nearer than is physically possible.

She's doubting herself, doubting the things she's convinced herself of, but she mostly can't think straight, and suddenly he finds a spot that has her choking for breath, growling his name, and now all she can think is about how improbable it is to feel this good.

He mimics the movement of his tongue in her mouth with his fingers, her internal muscles tremulous, and she's clinging so anxiously to him, he wonders if this is her first.

There's no warning when she comes, bucking weakly into his hand and uttering his name as a prayer.

He wraps a strong arm around her shaking body, bringing his other hand to his mouth and sucking his fingers clean with the thirstiness of ecstasy.

He's impossibly hard, vision flashing white as he screw his eyes shut and forces even breaths against his racing heartbeat.

He holds her tightly in his arms as she recovers from her high, a string of nonsense and her name in a voice like dripping chocolate into her ear.

"Are you okay?"

His voice is strained, his whole body on edge, and she tugs purposefully at the waistband of his shorts.

She can't describe how she feels.

He kisses her lips gently, hands on her hips. "Trust me", he murmurs, and this time it's more of a request, as he rolls away from her, off the bed.

Her eyes fly open, unwillingly tensing.

He shushes her, holding eye contact as he strips first shorts, then boxers, stepping neatly out of them and fishing for a condom in his back pocket.

Her expression is too much, too eager, and he indulgently fists his hand around his shaft, legs weakening as he moves his hand, eyes fixated on hers.

She turns onto her side, reaching out for him, and he can't have her touch him.

He slides the condom on and steps back over to her, carefully straddling her.

She spreads her legs for his to settle between them and there's a powerful sense of this being just because it feels right, and not because she feels fat.

She feels like a prize, nothing short of a supermodel, it's the look in his eyes and it's the way he's kissing her, so gently, so unrushed, yet she aches for him so badly it feels like teasing.

"_Will…_"

He nudges his tip at her entrance and waits until she moans his name again, fighting himself to push in so slowly it's excruciating.

"Oh god", by his open mouth and clenched abdominals, Quinn is assured this is a good thing.

He buries his face in her neck and breathes harshly as he tries to stay still.

Quinn has other ideas, wriggling slightly underneath him to adjust her position before jacking her hips up to his.

He grunts as he's fully enveloped by the tight heat, kissing her again, wetly, and moving in and out of her just a bit.

It's addictive, the sound she makes, and he does it again, just a bit harder, and again, and he's managing a rhythm that's not quite fast enough but allows him to focus just long enough to smash his lips to hers and rub between her legs in conjunction with his thrusts.

She meets him, demanding him harder, forcing him deeper, and he holds on for as long as possible until she finally squeezes it out of him and they collapse together with no breath left to catch.

* * *

><p>She wakes up hours later, feeling dirty and hateful, and she nearly cries when she comes to her senses and realises he's completely fast asleep and spooning behind her, snuggling up to her like she holds the answer to some question she's never heard.<p>

He must have felt her stirring, and mumbles something sleepily, suckling sloppily on the back of her neck.

She lets him.

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><p>Please review :)<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

Disobediance

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from Glee.**

**AN: So this is the final part! Thanks for reading, and thanks to andsoitis2, Greys has become my life, SayIr, TMPR, killerniggel, xsillylovesongs and PrettyLittleAgent for reviewing :)**

**Ruby.**

* * *

><p><span>Part 5<span>

He would tell her not to do this.

In the end it's Rachel who actually makes the whole thing easier by turning up just as Quinn is about to drift back to sleep and Will already has.

Quinn's leaping out of bed in a second at the sound of the door, snatching up all the bed sheets and leaving Will curled naked and blinking at her in bewilderment.

He's undeniably adorable, and she looks away.

"You have to leave!" she hisses. "Rachel already knows too much".

They hear her friend calling from downstairs.

He wearily sits up and rubs his eyes.

"Where's your car?"

"Down the street", he yawns and his eyes sweep over her longingly.

"You may have to jump down from the flat roof, just slip out of the bathroom window… I'll go talk to Rachel".

She's trying to think of a hundred things at once, trying to distract herself.

He manages to dress, keeps trying to kiss her, and she fusses about the tangled sheets.

"Don't forget to let me know when we can see each other again".

"Sorry", she says.

He repeats himself, looking confused, because she's right next to him, and must have been able to hear.

"No", she says, her voice hollow. "I'm sorry".

"Huh?"

He balances on one leg, pulling on a shoe, his brow furrowed.

"Do you regret...?"

She doesn't allow him to finish, doesn't want to see any sort of hurt on his face, wants him to leave before she completely breaks down for letting him go.

"Never", she hisses fiercely, "You're perfect and amazing and never ever forget that".

His gaze softens.

"Not as perfect and amazing as you", he returns.

"You should leave now", she tells him, "Before I do something stupid".

He quirks an eyebrow, but looks as if to do as she says.

She evades his approach, slipping quickly down the stairs and turning only to gesture to the bathroom across the hall.

She sniffs on the bottom step, and walking forward 2 paces has the tears spilling over her cheeks.

She hopes Rachel will believe her quick lie of epilating her ankles.

She hopes a lot of things.

* * *

><p>He's sitting on her bed when she eventually returns there a couple of hours later, and she stops dead in the doorway, a silent gasp on her lips.<p>

His eyes are as bloodshot as her own, and he hasn't bothered to put on his other shoe.

She's not sure he's even notice he's wearing just one shoe, and he stands up lurchingly.

"When were you planning on giving me this?"

He shakes the envelope at her, and the locket rattles inside it, but he's not angry, more defeated, and she can see in his eyes that he knows she means leave and never come back.

"Just go Will", she says, her voice harsh with the edge of tears.

"Please".

He's right up to her immediately, tense muscles quivering.

She wishes he'd just done as she asked in the first place.

She doesn't need to see in his eyes the pain that they've been working up to right from the start.

"Is that what you really want?" He asks, gently, but fervently. "Do you really want to break up with me?"

"Are we even together?"

Her question subsides into a sob, and he fights the urge to reach out for her.

There's an awful silence, and every second that passes with him there will break her heart into another thousand pieces when he leaves.

Because he was always going to leave.

No one ever stays there for her.

"We can never be together", she adds weakly, an after thought, even though it's the only thing she's thought about, listing the reasons why ever since he first held her in warm, loving arms.

"Yeah", he says shortly, and her eyes widen in surprise. It looks like he's not about to fight.

She's glad. She doesn't think she can fight with him.

"I've been through it all", he says, earnestly. "It wouldn't work because we couldn't spend enough time together to work on a relationship. I was supposed to be married, I wasn't supposed to think about you so much. It wouldn't work because it was supposed to just be some sort of crazy need I had for you and the promise of family you held inside you. It wouldn't work because you were never supposed to be attracted to me in return. We were supposed to hold out til your graduation… but even then, with you going to college, it wouldn't work because you would to go partying and have a life, and… and I would be curled up on the couch with a crossword and not getting any younger…"

He took a gasping breath, pacing now, his footsteps furious.

"It wouldn't work because it's supposed to be practically impossible for me to see any alternatives… That wasn't break up sex, Quinn", he says, changing the subject quickly. "We made love. It was… "

He can't find words, and her knuckles are white from gripping the doorframe.

"I've never loved so much and felt so much love in return".

She can barely see him through the mist of tears, and how did they end up like this, and why is she feeling like she always knew they would, even back then, with her pregnant and stupid and him married and stuck.

He's less frantic now, looking out of the window, turned away from her.

"You smile at me… it's crazy, I really can't believe that one minute you're in my apartment a few times, a scared girl, and you start blossoming before my eyes, and I can't keep my eyes off you… and there's just _no way it could work_".

He pauses, his fist clenched at his side reaching up to wipe his eyes.

"I know you can't possibly want me for long enough- but this is too easy… look, we … connect- okay? I don't know how… and I just, I just can't stop wanting you, and maybe you really are what I need, because I sure as hell seem to get by without anything else…"

"I can't have you", Quinn chokes out, "I can never be good enough to always be able to call you mine".

"I will always be yours Quinn", he shouts, "why can't you understand that, I don't know any more that you do how the hell we've come to be so damn inseperable… how we're in such an intense relationship that should never exist".

"We're not in a relationship", she argues, letting go of the doorframe and walking forward, and Rachel can probably hear them, but she doesn't remember that Rachel's even there.

"What else is this?" He cries, "I know you better than I know _anybody_. And I still want to know more".

"But I…"

"Why not?"

He's right up in her face, hot breath on her upturned lips.

She has a list of many reasons why not but she can't remember any of them.

"One day I want to marry you", he says, lowering his voice slightly. "One day I want to raise children with you, I want us to have a dog, a big garden, I want us… I want _us_."

He grips her biceps with strong fingers.

"Tell me why I can't have this. Tell me I can't have you… if you really want me to go just tell me".

"I love you", she shouts, actually shouts at the top her voice, and there's a sudden crash.

It takes her a good minute to realise that it was her doing, pushing him with a strength she didn't know she had against her closet doors.

"Don't leave me", she begs him, and she's marking him with how fiercely she's gripping his forearms with her fingernails.

"I'm so scared".

"Me too", he admits, "me too".

Their lips meet halfway, and Quinn breaks on contact, clinging to him, clinging to the only thing that will keep her afloat as the Titanic sinks.

He may have made love to her so tenderly, but this is anything but tender, a pure need to claim her, he grabs her closer than is comfortable, open mouthed messy kisses clearing the tears from her face.

She forgets she's supposed to be saying goodbye, forgets she was ever sad because all she can feel is an overwhelming happiness.

He is still there.

"Hi", she says, breathlessly, and he pulls back, holding her tear-stained face tightly in his hands.

"Hello".

His grin is so wide it must hurt.

There's a pointed coughing from the doorway, and neither of them can stop just smiling stupidly at each other.

So they don't.

"It's bad enough knowing I am completely supportive of your relationship, as messed up as that sounds", Rachel mutters grumpily, trying desperately not to look too closely at their state of dishevelment and how Quinn's neck is flushed red.

"Don't, whatever you do, have sex up against that closet in my spare room while I am downstairs pretending that you aren't professing undying love to each other, and getting my stuff ready for _school_".

What Rachel doesn't know can't hurt her.

Besides, they've never been people to do as they are told.

* * *

><p>Five months later and she's playing scales on the piano in the choir room, waiting for him to finish in his Languages lesson planning meeting.<p>

She doesn't really notice him entering, until he walks right over and his breath is warm and teasing against the back of her neck.

She twists round with an easy smile.

He kisses her decadently, a promise of later and forever and now.

She's told him countless times not they aren't to do anything in school, but she doesn't exactly complain when he does. On countless occasions.

It's not like he's planning on keeping his job, he's had bright eyes on Broadway lights ever since she started mentioning NYU a few weeks ago.

Her question is not entirely out of the blue, but it's the first time she's actually asked him so bluntly, without it just being casually mentioned in conversation.

"What do you think about the future?"

He answers without missing a beat.

"I think I love her".

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><p><strong>The end.<strong>

**AN: So there's probably a lot more I could have included in this chapter, but I didn't, and I'm not entirely happy with it, but I couldn't have this story go on forever without ending :S Anyway, thanks for reading.**

**Please review :)**


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